


Canon Shots

by AlaskaMarina



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaskaMarina/pseuds/AlaskaMarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just brief little 'deleted scenes' of Klaine from canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blaine Says Goodbye (4-18)

**Author's Note:**

> More to come whenever inspiration strikes. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 4-18 where all the kids are hiding in the choir room after the gunshots. The spoiler about the 'video phone messages' were kind of vague but there was enough to know that Blaine wouldn't be saying anything to Kurt. I found that entirely unacceptable. So this happened...

Blaine finished up the message to his parents, brushing away the tears threatening to spill over. He was just about to close the phone when he stopped. Should he? He knew, deep down, he shouldn't, but he also knew he had to. He couldn't  _not_  do it.

He turned back to the phone, staring into the tiny dark hole that was the camera. Like staring down the barrel of a gun.

Blaine swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut for the breifest moment, bracing himself.

"Kurt," he whispered to the little phone in his hand, "Baby-I…" His throat suddenly felt very dry, but he had to get this out, "I love you. But you already know that. I, just, I want you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for second. Not while we were apart, not after we broke up, not even now. And I don't regret one second of the time I spent with you. Just… _god_ , Kurt," he paused and wiped his eyes again. "Ever since you came into my life, it's like… everything just changed for the better. I'm so happy to have been able to love you. And I just, I want you to remember that, okay? If I don't… If I don't make it out of this, I just want you to remember. Blaine Anderson loved you until his dying day."

 


	2. I Know Your Plans Don't Include Me (4-14)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine sneak away to a hotel room for some alone time during Mr. Shue's non-wedding. But it doesn't have to mean anything. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for angst and sort-of smut

Kurt let out a wordless cry and collapsed against Blaine, shuddering and breathing out a soft moan as he rode out his orgasm. Kurt buried his face in the crook of Blaine's shoulder for a brief moment as they both clutched at each other, gasping for air. As Kurt came down from his high, a sinking feeling crept back up into his stomach from the corner of the room where he'd flung it carelessly in his mad haste to be close to the man panting beneath him. It wasn't regret, exactly, not about what they'd just done anyway. No, it was more of a… wistfulness. A sort of bitterness about their situation in general. Kurt wasn't sorry about doing what he'd just done with Blaine. He could never be. He just wished for the millionth time that things could have been different. He wished they'd never had that stupid fight. That Blaine had never strayed. That he'd never had to move to New York. Like time could have just frozen, preserving them and their young, untarnished love in it's blissful embrace. Like everything that had happened since, well since September, really, had all been nothing but just a horrible, horrible dream.

As he pressed his face against Blaine's neck, breathing him in, he wished so badly, that this, right here, could have been like before. The countless other times he and Blaine had given in to their mutual and desperate need to be close to the person they loved. Closer than they'd ever been with anyone else. He wished that they were curled up in Blaine's room right now, with Sting playing softly in the background, and the two of them feeling warm and safe and loved in the other's arms. Instead of here, in some random, fancy, hotel room, with a half a dozen other couples fornicating just down the hall, and an unprecedented disaster of a wedding taking place downstairs.

He wished that Blaine could nibble on the spot below Kurt's ear, like he used to, whispering "I love you" over and over as he stroked his hands lovingly up and down Kurt's sweaty back. He wished they could curl up for hours, like they once had, still covered in sweat, with each other's come drying on their bodies, every one of their senses just drinking in everything about the other man. He wished he could lay down on top of Blaine, like he always did after sex, and press weak, open-mouthed kisses to his hot skin as the little hairs on his heaving chest tickled his nose and he felt Blaine's heart hammering against his cheek. Instead of rolling off and getting dressed and acting like what had just happened was no big deal, like he was about to do.

And so, Kurt pretended, for just a moment, that they were like they used to be. That none of that horrible shit had ever happened. And, for just that one small moment, Kurt was absolutely content. He was content in a way he hadn't felt since the break-up. He felt complete, and safe, and calm, and happy. Just lying here. With Blaine. Breathing in synch. In and out.

And then the moment ended. And reality settled in. And he remembered all the shit that had gone down in the past months that had torn him and Blaine apart. Far too much shit to be ignored. Too much to move past. Too much to forget. And he shifted and pulled out and pulled away from Blaine. From the love of his life. From his tarnished, beaten, broken, perfectly imperfect everything.

And as he felt the cold air strike his body, he died just a little bit more inside.

 


	3. Anti-Prom (3-19)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always wonder how Kurt and Blaine feel about that awkward period of like 6 months when they first met when Kurt liked Blaine but Blaine still hadn't gotten his oblivious ass with the program. A situation which got even more awkward after Blaine knew that Kurt liked him but then totally friendzoned him. I imagine he now feels pretty stupid when he thinks back on all those wasted days he could have been with Kurt and wasn't. I know I would.
> 
> Anyway, have this. Let's just assume everyone else in the room is too busy with their own stuff to pay attention to them, yeah?

The anti-prom was not going well. What was originally supposed to be a group of close friends having a fantastic night-in away from all the stress, formality and judgment prevalent at their Senior Prom had degenerated into an incredibly dull and, frankly, pitiful collection of sub-groups moping around a stuffy hotel room. Rachel was in the bathroom trying on her prom-dress in a desperate attempt to feel less pathetic about the whole situation. Puck was in a battle to the death with Becky Jackson as they raided the mini-bar and Kurt and Blaine were propped up on the room's only bed, watching re-runs of  _Tabatha Takes Over_  on the flat-screen. Well, Blaine was watching it. Kurt was watching Blaine.

"Oh! This is a repeat," Blaine said happily, "It's the one with the passive-aggressive lesbian and the doggy-care." He glanced back to check whether Kurt approved of his choice.

"I wish Tabatha would take over this anti-prom," Kurt lamented, "Gosh this sucks."

"Yeah, well," Blaine shrugged. It did suck. But what could they do?

"If you wanted to go to the prom, I would have gone with you," Kurt said suddenly. Blaine turned off the TV. "I am not going to give into Brittany's insane ban on hair-gel," he exclaimed, flopping down on his back. He tilted his head back to look at Kurt, "Freedom to use hair-care products? It's in the Bill of Rights." In all honestly, Blaine didn't really care where they were, so long as he got to spend the evening with Kurt.

Kurt smiled at him, "Didn't the founding fathers all wear wigs?"

Blaine propped himself up on one elbow, "You haven't seen me without an enormous amount of hair-gel in my hair," he confided, "It's, it's really bad."

"Actually, I have."

"Wait, what?"

"Last year. At that New Directions party. When you got so drunk out of your mind you made-out with Rachel and then had to sleep over."

"Oh, man," Blaine closed his eyes and hung his head in embarrassment, "I can't believe it. I hardly remember anything about that night."

"I think your curls are really hot, actually."

Blaine looked back at Kurt and found him blushing. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I do remember one thing about that night."

"Kissing Rachel Berry and questioning your sexuality?"

Blaine winced, "Okay, two things."

"The morning-after, hangover?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. He reached over and gently squeezed Kurt's knee. "I remember how good you looked that night," he said earnestly. Kurt raised his eyebrows, surprised by this turn in the conversation, though not unpleasantly so. "You were wearing those  _really_  tight, red pants, with safety pins all up the sides," Blaine continued, "I mean, where do even find this stuff, Kurt?"

"I make a lot of it myself," Kurt paused, biting his lip. He'd designed those pants specifically for that party, for one specific reason, for one specific  _person_ , "…I didn't realize you were paying that much attention to me back then."

Blaine frowned, "Of course I was." He shifted, sitting up, so he could look Kurt in the eye. He took his hand and Kurt's heart sped up like it always did whenever they touched. "Kurt," he began "I- I know you think that I didn't notice you at all, before. Or that I just thought of you in a strictly… platonic sort of way." Kurt looked away, but Blaine brought a hand up and tilted his face back toward him, "But I want to you to know that that's not true, Kurt. I noticed you every single day. I liked everything about you." Blaine smiled fondly as he spoke of the gorgeous man before him, "The way you looked, the way you talked, the way you _walked_ ," Blaine saw Kurt blush, "the way your smile lit up the whole room whenever you got really excited about something. I still love all those things… I was just too oblivious back then to realize what it all  _meant_."

He squeezed Kurt's hand and Kurt squeezed back as a soft smile crept onto the pale boy's lips. After a moment, Kurt answered quietly but sincerely, "I'm glad you finally figured it out."

Blaine took Kurt's face in his hands, running his thumb along the dimples that had appeared on his cheeks. "Oh, baby," he breathed, before locking their lips, "You have  _no idea_."

 


	4. Guitar Lessons (5-9)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt can play guitar? Since when? How? Ohhh...duh!

_"I started with singing lessons and piano. And I just recently started playing guitar."_

_"...Would you teach me?"_

_"Have you ever played?"_

_"Oh, yeah, a little. I-I think I know the basic chords, but I'm nowhere near your level of virtuosity."_

* * *

Underneath his painfully plastic grin and ass-kissing words, Kurt's hostile and violent fantasies about throwing Starchild and his flashy, overproduced, backstabbing ego off of his fire escape were briefly interrupted at Elliot's words. As he glanced over at Starchild's guitar resting on the couch beside him, the images of a glitter-studded pile of goo laying next to a feathered top-hat on the asphalt outside of his apartment building were replaced by a far warmer memory.

Kurt found himself flashing back to the summer after his senior year, the last few month's he'd spent with Blaine before circumstances had pushed him away from his boyfriend and into the big city. He remembered the hot, sticky sun streaming in through his bedroom window on a sultry June afternoon. The heat offset only slightly by the noisy air conditioner set in his wall, blowing a cool, artificial wind across his skin and hair. He was nestled snuggly between Blaine's legs, the shorter boy's chin hooked over his shoulder as they sat together on the edge of his bed, an acoustic guitar resting on his lap. Blaine's strong calloused fingers pressing over his own inexperienced ones, shaping his hand, pressing their fingertips down against the proper strings, his other hand resting on Kurt's waist.

"That's an A-chord," Blaine murmured in his ear, his hot breath ghosting over Kurt's already heated skin, "You've got it. Now try strumming." Kurt pulled the pick down the strings eliciting a pleasant hum from the instrument. But it was a little off. "For an A, you skip the top string," Blaine corrected quietly, moving his other hand over Kurt's free one. They strummed again, together. This time it sounded just right. "There we go."

Kurt knew, though. He knew you were only supposed to strum the bottom four for an A-chord. He just liked to feel Blaine's hands on him. Blaine had started giving him lessons almost as soon as school had let out. Kurt had always known Blaine was a talented piano player, but when he found out his boyfriend had taken up the guitar, he had all but demanded that he share his knowledge. Blaine was already beyond perfect and musically gifted and Kurt would be damned if he let his boyfriend become even  _more_  virtuosic without at least  _trying_  to keep up.

But, more importantly, it had turned out to be a unexpected way for them to bond and share each other's company. Kurt and Blaine both knew their time together was limited, and slipping away faster everyday. These simple, beautiful moments together, just the two of them, were becoming all the more precious for that.

"You're getting a lot better, " Blaine praised, moving his hand back to Kurt's hip.

"It's only because I've got such a great teacher."

"Maybe too great. Pretty soon you won't even need me."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I really don't see that happening anytime soon, honey. Especially not if all my fingers break off like they feel like they're about to." He mumbled as he flexed the sore digits, feeling his knuckles popping, "Then I'll need you to help with me with a lot more than guitar."

Kurt felt Blaine grin against his ear. "I like the sound of that," he murmured, giving Kurt's hips a squeeze.

The other boy bit his lip around his own grin, leaning back into Blaine's chest just a little bit more.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Anderson," he said as one of Blaine's hands moved to rest on top of his thigh, "I meant stuff like feeding me, driving me around. Adorable,  _respectable_  stuff like that."

"Of course you did," Blaine murmured, his wayward hand sliding even lower, "And you know I'd be more than happy to feed and dress you. And undress you. And bathe you. Like any  _respectable_ boyfriend would."

Blaine nuzzled into Kurt's neck, pressing light kisses to the skin just below his ear. Kurt shuddered. Blaine  _knew_  that was his weak spot. The guitar slipped from his sweaty hands, but he didn't hear it fall so he figured Blaine must have moved it out of the way. He felt Blaine press his mouth against his skin and start to suck. Kurt blinked rapidly and fought to keep his head together long enough to speak.

"W-we should practice."

Blaine broke away, grinning mischievously, "I thought we were."

Kurt swallowed, flashing back to their very first kiss. So long ago, it seemed. Back when it was all shy looks, awkward flirting, and coffee dates. And red hot blushes at the very thought of being in the kind of position they were so comfortably teasing each other in now.

"They say practice makes perfect," Kurt agreed.

Blaine whispered into his ear after nipping playfully at his earlobe, "No respectable gentleman would slack off on honing his  _skills_."

Kurt tilted his head and caught his boyfriend's warm lips with his own. They kissed slowly as Kurt's hand flew up to tangle his fingers in the soft curls at the back of Blaine's neck. A soft moan escaped the taller boy's lips as Blaine finally cupped him through his shorts.

Kurt broke away, breathing hard, "You don't think-  _god, Blaine_ \- you don't think we've got it down by now?" He ground back against Blaine who buried his moan in Kurt's shoulder.

"Why don't we find out?" Blaine's other hand slid up under his boyfriend's shirt, caressing the soft skin on his stomach. Kurt gasped.

Kurt twisted in Blaine's hold and the two of them collapsed onto the bed, rolling so Kurt was on top.

"You know we have absolutely no self-control," Kurt mumbled against Blaine's lips, biting back a moan when the other boy ground up at the same time he rolled his hips down.

"O-overrated," Blaine gasped as Kurt ducked down and began attacking his neck with his lips and teeth.

"Couldn't agree more."

In all honesty, most of their guitar lessons wound up degenerating into steamy make-out sessions like this one. Mostly just because it proved too impossible for either of them to really focus while being so close to each other like this.

But still, somehow, by summer's end, Kurt did manage to build up a fairly respectable repertoire.

He wasn't especially passionate about playing guitar. It was nice, but Kurt didn't thrive on it the way he did with fashion or with singing. Not without Blaine there, at least. But, sometimes. Sometimes, usually when he was alone and bored, or when he was missing Blaine, Kurt would pick up his boyfriend's old guitar and play a few chords. Just to keep up.

So, yes. Yes, he knew the basic chords. And more. Truth be told, thanks to his fiance's patient teachings, he was actually quite a capable guitar player.

But Elliot didn't need to know that.

That sneaky, band-stealing, little bastard.

 


	5. Bashed 5-15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delayed Reaction Fic (see what i did there? ;] ) to "Bash"

Kurt didn't pass out right away. He wasn't that lucky. The blow to the back of his head had instead left him swimming. One minute he was trading blows with a homophobic asshole, and the next he found himself on the ground, head pounding with black spots dancing before his eyes. Pain exploded on the side of his face as he was hit again and again and his vision blurred into a mess of motion and shapes. He heard shouting and tires squealing and suddenly the blinding brightness of the headlights vanished.

And he was left in the dark. Alone. His last pain-addled thought before the aching conquered all his synapses was that his jacket would be absolutely ruined.

He lay there for god knew how long. Drifting in and out of consciousness, limbs aching and head throbbing, with the cold from the asphalt seeping in through the fabric of his clothes and into his bones. He lost all track of time. It could have minutes or hours, but whenever he tried to move he felt sure he would throw up. Kurt didn't know what a concussion felt like, but a slightly lucid part of his brain thought there was a good chance he had one.

In his delirious state, he didn't even think to try his phone.

By the time a passerby saw him and called 911, he was finally, blissfully, mercifully out.

* * *

The first thing Kurt became aware of was the pain. It was dull, muted somehow, but definitely there. A subtle throbbing throughout his whole body, flaring up around his head, his neck, and his ribs.

The second thing Kurt noticed was the warm, heavy mass pressed up against his right side. It was soft, yet solid, and oddly comforting, though Kurt didn't know why.

The third thing was that his throat was unbelievably dry. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He needed water.

But to get water he needed to make his mouth work. And to get his mouth to work, he had to make his brain work. His brain, which was fuzzy and uncoordinated. He felt sort of… high. Kurt was reminded of the time he and Rachel had tried a bong with that shady friend of hers. He'd ended up getting sick to his stomach, but before that had happened, it'd felt a little like this. Sort of… floaty.

_Come on, Kurt, one word. "Water."_

"W _uunghr_ " he groaned. Well, that wasn't right.

"Kurt?" The weight next to him shifted. "Kurt, baby, are you awake? I'm here."

The voice, muffled at first, was now pitched and hopeful, and… _familiar_.

_Blaine._

Kurt felt warm fingers caress his jawline. Gently, ever so gently. He must look at least as bad as he felt.

"Kurt? Come on, it's okay…open your eyes."

He forced his eyelids to part and met Blaine's beautiful hazel eyes, shining with equal parts relief and concern.

"Hi."

" _Hi_ ," Blaine looked about ready to cry.

"Water?" Kurt croaked, god his throat was rough.

"Oh! Oh yeah, yeah, of course." Blaine scrambled for the pitcher on Kurt's bedside table quickly poured out a cup, sloshing a little over the sides in his haste. He lifted Kurt's head and helped him hold the cup to his lips.

Kurt drank greedily until the cup was empty.

"Better?"

Kurt nodded. He leaned back against the pillows.

"How do you feel?"

He felt like crap. But he didn't want to tell Blaine that, so he just shrugged. "I'm ok… How bad is it?"

"They, um, they said you fractured your skull. Just a hairline fracture, right here." His hand ghosted over Kurt's forehead, above his right eye. Almost touching but not quite. "And you got all cut and bruised-" He stopped talking. Kurt saw him squeeze the blankets tightly in his fist as he stared hard at the wall behind Kurt's head. Kurt covered his clenched hand with his own and felt it relax slightly, after a moment.

"How long was I out?" Kurt asked, once Blaine met his eyes again.

"…About a day," said Blaine, watching him carefully, "You had us all so worried, baby. I couldn't…I just… I'm just so glad you're okay." Blaine broke off, dropping his head and drawing a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said. And Kurt knew that Blaine knew he was apologizing, not for his actions, but for the pain they had caused.

"I know. I'm just so glad you're okay," he said again. He bit his lip and reached out, brushing his fingers lightly along Kurt's sideburn down to his chin. His thumb just barely touched the corner of his mouth, probably too afraid to get any closer to his split lip. God, he must look like crap.

Kurt reached up and grabbed his fiancé's shaking hand, "I'm alright, Blaine. I promise."

Blaine nodded but he was't quite able to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Everyone was here earlier," said Blaine after a moment, "They send their love." Kurt nodded slowly, noticing for the first time the bouquets of flowers around the tiny room.

"Are my dad and Carole here?"

"Not yet."

Kurt frowned, "But…then how are you in here? Hospitals have that stupid rule about family-"

"Apparently," Blaine cut him off, smiling softly. "We happen to be in one of maybe ten forward-thinking hospitals in the world where  _this_ ," he intertwined his fingers with Kurt's and held up their hands so Kurt could see the shiny metal band, "actually means something."

"Ironic," Kurt said. But he smiled too, grateful to see the worried lines leave Blaine's face, if only for a moment.

"Your dad's on his way."

"You talk to him?"

"Yeah"

"He mad?"

"He's… upset." Kurt looked at him skeptically. "Okay, he's…. he sounded furious actually." Kurt sighed, then nodded. "He's just worried about you."

"I know, " the injured boy looked up at him apprehensively, "What about you?"

Blaine let his eyes fall to the bruises on Kurt's knuckles.

"I'm proud of you," he said, "…And I'm angry. So angry. And I'm scared and I want to kill the monsters that did this to you—"

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and he broke off. He met Kurt's eyes, and Kurt saw such  _love_  there. So much sorrow for his pain and ecstasy for his perseverance. So much passion that Kurt thought he might cry.

"Blaine," he whispered.

"Mostly I— mostly I just wish more than anything that I could've been there," said Blaine, "I just  _hate_  that you were all alone."

"You're the one who taught me that courage is standing up for what's right, even if you're standing alone," Kurt reminded him. "And besides," he added, giving his hand another squeeze, "you're here with me, now."

Blaine looked into his fiancé's eyes and smiled a little, "And you better believe I'm not letting out of my sight. Like, ever again."

Kurt returned the smile, knowingly, "That could get awkward."

"We'll work through it."

"Okay, baby." Kurt could see Blaine was putting on a brave-face, but underneath, his boyfriend was seriously shaken up by what had happened. He held out his arms. "Come here."

Blaine cautiously leaned back down and snuggled up against his side, careful not to jostle the injured boy too much. "I love you so much, Kurt," he whispered into the other man's chest, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You mean the world to me."

"We'll always have each other, Blaine," Kurt promised, wrapping his arms around him, "And we'll always look out for each other. Nothing's going to break that."

"Not while I'm around," Blaine hummed, snuggling himself even closer to the man who was his whole life, reveling in his solid warmth. In an instant he could have lost everything. His whole world ripped out from under him. And what then? How could he possibly be expected to go on without Kurt? Without  _air_? He was just so, so, unbelievably happy and relived that Kurt was still his to hold, and touch, and talk to. Completely and utterly overwhelmed by every breath Kurt took and every heartbeat that echoed against Blaine's ear. Kurt was alive. And  _here_. Safe in his arms.

And Blaine was never ever letting him go.

_Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while,_   
_But in time…_   
_Nothing can harm you_   
_Not while I'm around…_


End file.
